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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882728">at night we meet like lovers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spadesking/pseuds/spadesking'>spadesking</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>at night we meet like lovers [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, F/M, M/M, These are not all seperate they're kinda mixed in a mess, no beta we read like men, will update as fic progresses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:06:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spadesking/pseuds/spadesking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampire/Modern AU with some of the clones being vampires and everyone else not. </p><p>It should have been like any other night. Go out, find someone that wouldn't be missed and feed. Rinse, repeat.</p><p>But apparently the galaxy is out to get Wolffe, and it's starting with his eye.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padme and Anakin are already together, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe, the other two are eventual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>at night we meet like lovers [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleonchanging/gifts">chameleonchanging</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This originally started out as a crazy idea because I was reading another fic with a vampire au, and you know, I was just throwing ideas to the wall. But after talking it out with chameleonchanging it just spiraled out of control. So here you are. Have no idea how long this is going to be or where this is going. Hope you enjoy!</p><p>UPDATE: I changed Plo to be human so I don't have to deal with non-human biology. And also it's an excuse for them to kiss later haha</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wolffe doesn’t like to hunt with his brothers. <em>Lone wolf, </em>they tease. The only reason more than one of them would go out for a hunt is as a precaution. Wolffe remembers when there were rumors of a hunter around Coruscant. They had to use their emergency stash of blood, and when they did go out to hunt, they went out in pairs. That had been a rough time.</p><p>Wolffe prowls around the dark alleys of Coruscant, eventually picking a spot next to a couple of dumpsters that sit behind to a restaurant. In order to look less conspicuous, he takes out a cigarette. He pretends to fish out a lighter from his pocket as he scopes around. A couple passes by and Wolffe hears loud whoops in the distance. Probably drunk college students. Wolffe takes a look at his watch and sighs. Just past midnight. If it doesn’t die down, Wolffe might be waiting longer than he wants. He moves off the wall and starts heading farther down the street, closer to the edge of the city, where the less than savory characters tend to live. </p><p>Taking the bus would have been faster, but after his meal, Wolffe will have no trouble running back home. The lights of downtown soon fade, and the street is littered with more trash and potholes than should be legal. Cigarette still in hand, Wolffe is about to turn down a corner when it hits him. </p><p>A smell, wildly unfamiliar but so tantalizing. It’s sickeningly sweet, like liquid sugar, but with that underlying scent of blood. There's something strangely herbal about it too, like a garden left unwatered for too long. Wolffe feels his fangs slip out unwillingly, and he clenches his jaw tightly in order to make them retract as he searches for the source. It grows stronger from a dark alley, only lit at the opening where it meets the sidewalk. There, even in the dark, Wolffe can see a figure walking towards the light.</p><p>Wolffe waits just far enough into the alley that he wouldn't be seen from the street, but close enough that figure doesn't have long to get to him. He can tell it's a man. He's not drunk, by the look and smell of it. The man's hair is tied back in a thick ponytail and a pair of sunglasses sit on his head, even though it had been cloudy all day. He’s wearing fitted dress pants with a sweater underneath his loose leather jacket, making him look more like a teacher than someone from the outer edges of Coruscant. But unless the man took several gap years, he doesn't look like he's in school. Wolffe frowns slightly. They're supposed to feed on low-profile prey—criminals, drug dealers, those who prey upon others—people who won't be believed when they yell <em>vampire</em>. But this man doesn't look like any of those. </p><p>He should walk away. He should find someone else.</p><p>And yet—</p><p>Wolffe waits until the man is closer. The smell is nearly overpowering, and he can feel his mouth salivating as the man walks towards him “Hey,” he says, voice a touch softer around the edges in order to not seem intimidating. “You got a light?” </p><p>The man stops several feet from him. Even the street light is a ways behind Wolffe, he can see that man's eyes are a startling silver. He stares at them and almost misses what the man says. "Ah, no," he says. "I'm afraid not."</p><p>Wolffe mentally kicks himself to pay attention. “It’s alright,” he says, as he leans off the wall. He rolls the cigarette in his fingers and slowly takes a few steps towards the man. “Probably should stop anyway, since it’ll kill me or all that.” </p><p>“Perhaps, but I hardly think it’s my place to tell you that,” the man says. His voice is conversational, but there's an underlying wariness to it. He adjusts the strap on his satchel, and Wolffe catches the man glancing behind Wolffe. </p><p>“No,” Wolffe says, as he feels his fangs slip out again, “it’s really not.” The man takes a step back, and Wolffe lunges, grabbing the front of the man's jacket and slamming him into the brick wall. There's a sickening <em>crack </em>as the man's head knocks back, and his body goes slack long enough that Wolffe can turn him around, effectively pinning him still.</p><p>The smell takes over Wolffe's senses, and he closes his eyes as he takes a moment to breathe it in. It's like sinking into a warm bath, the water shimmering with sweet-scented oils. He can feel his eyes going black as his more primal instincts take over. "God," he says, "what is with you?"</p><p>The only answer is a grunt and a valiant effort to shove Wolffe off. He’s strong, for a non-vampire, but it takes almost nothing for Wolffe to shove him harder against the wall. "Don't even try," Wolffe says. "It's not going to happen." For a moment, the man stills, as if he's actually listening to Wolffe, but he can feel the man radiating fury. Wolffe ignores it and grabs a hold of the man's hair to pull his head to the side. The thunderous sound of the man's heart quickens, and Wolffe bites into the man's neck.</p><p>As his fangs break the skin, Wolffe feels the man's struggling fade, the euphoric effect of the bite settling in. Wolffe's eyes close as the first pulse of blood fills his mouth. In the time that he's been a creature of the night, he thought that all blood tasted the same — a tantalizing sweetness that is ultimately covered with the salty tang of blood. Depending on the prey, it'll take on some other taste too. The older the host, the older the blood tastes, taking on an almost rotten aftertaste that doesn't leave well after the feeding is over. But this... this is different. It hardly tastes like blood to Wolffe. It is sweet, but not so much that it reminds Wolffe of candy. Again, there is that hint of something herbal, coating Wolffe's tongue, and dulling the sweetness with a counteracting bitterness. </p><p>He could almost forget he's bleeding the man dry.</p><p>Almost.</p><p>Wolffe pulls back and he feels the full weight of the man as his knees suddenly buckle beneath him. Wolffe eases the man to the ground and props him up against the wall. He's still breathing, just barely, but if that wound doesn't close soon, it won't matter. The man's eyes are closed now, and at some point, his glasses got knocked off his head. Wolffe picks them up and spins them in his hand as he kneels in front of the man. Something scratches at the back of Wolffe's mind. This is strange. Well. Stranger than what's going on at the moment. Off might be the better word. He looks back at the man and is surprised to see his silver eyes staring at him.</p><p>And that he has a knife.</p><p>There is no time to act because the next thing Wolffe knows, <em>he</em> <em>can't see.</em> The right side of his face is warm and wet and <em>burning</em> like he's been set aflame, and he lets out a roar of fury. He catches the next swing of the blade with his hand and knocks it out of the man's hand. He punches straight down into the man's chest and hears the air rush out of the man's lungs. Wolffe wants to rip out his throat and bleed him dry, but his face flares with pain. He can hardly see let alone move past the pain. He growls in frustration and leaves the man lying on the ground, the sunglasses still in his hand as he runs through the streets of Coruscant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some healing, exposition, and a little surprise after Wolffe loses his eye.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even though Kix doesn't have his medical license yet, the brothers still call him their “doc.” He might as well be; the man has his own suture kit in the apartment and enough bandages to wrap make a mummy. They didn't intend to get him roped into the creature of the night business, but ever since Rex brought Bly to Kix's house in a panicked state, he's become their personal doctor — "Do not tell people that," Kix had said. "I could get in so much trouble if someone thinks I'm practicing without a license." So now every time one of the boys gets hurt, in some dumb move or a run-in with a hunter, they climb through Kix’s window. He used to live on the fourth floor, but after someone (Ponds) tracked in blood and one of the neighbors called the cops, Kix moved to a place with easier access. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>That is why, instead of going to a hospital, Wolffe goes to Kix’s. He double-checks, triple checks, and rushes to the back of the building and lifts the window. What he doesn’t double-check, triple-check is if there’s someone in the apartment other than Kix. There is. There are actually two people; Rex and Cody look up from where they stand in the kitchen. Rex is holding a bowl of popcorn, and Cody is about to say something when he freezes. His head snaps towards Wolffe, and that is when Wolffe accidentally lets go of the sill, following the two and a half feet to the floor. Next thing he knows, he's being dragged over to the couch and having Cody and Rex stare at him.</p>
  <p>"Wolffe," Cody says, his voice steady, but his hands are clenched tightly into fists. "What the hell happened?"</p>
  <p>"Where's Kix?" Wolffe asks, managing to avoid Cody's question for now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before he can get an answer, the man in question steps from the hallway with his laptop and a blanket. He looks at Wolffe and then back at Cody with a "Really?" expression. Cody shrugs and Kix sighs. "I’ll go grab my stuff,” he says, and disappears. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How'd you get hurt like that?" Rex asks, his voice disembodied from Wolffe's right side.</p>
  <p>The wound flares up again, but grimacing just makes it worse. "Had a knife."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Just a knife?"</p>
  <p>"Fuck, I don't know," Wolffe says. Even just talking makes his whole face hurt. Wolffe turns his head to look for Kix, but he feels Cody put a hand on it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Keep it there,” Cody says gruffly. He moves into Wolffe's field of vision and narrows his eyes. "Wolffe, this is important. Try and remember what the knife looked like. Did it look like it was made out of silver?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wolffe really doesn't want to do anything except take a shit ton of painkillers and go to sleep for at least a year. But he stares at the ceiling and tries to imagine what the knife looked like before it came slicing down his face. It had been small, the blade no longer than three inches. He couldn't remember what the handle looked like at all. Just the shine of the blade, even in the dark, as if its owner took care to clean it often.</p>
  <p>"Maybe," Wolffe says because he can't be too sure. The little details are getting harder to distinguish from the pain and blood. "I don't know."</p>
  <p>Cody clenches his jaw. He's about to say something when Kix appears next to him. Cody shifts over, and Kix takes his place. "Damn," Kix says. "That's gonna leave one hell of a scar." Wolffe closes his other eye as Kix gets to work cleaning up the blood. He can hear Rex pacing back and forth nervously. There's no noise from Cody.</p>
  <p>The room is silent as Kix pulls back the cloth. Wolffe opens his eye to see something flash across Kix's face. "That bad, huh?" he asks.</p>
  <p>Kix presses his lips together. "You're going to need more medical attention than I can give you. As far as I can tell, you have a laceration with eye trauma. If it were just the laceration, I could stitch the surrounding skin. But I don't know how extensive the damage is on your eye. You might need surgery."</p>
  <p>Wolffe sighs. "Fuck," he mutters.</p>
  <p>"Take him to the hospital," Kix says. Wolffe opens his mouth to say something, but Kix cuts him off. "If you're about to argue with me on this, that eye is not the only thing you'll have to worry about," he growls.</p>
  <p>Wolffe closes his mouth and looks at Cody. He's nervously carding a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the couch. Cody looks past Wolffe and at Kix. With a nod, he stands up and goes over to Wolffe.</p>
  <p>"Come on, brother," Cody says. "Let's get you patched up."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
  <p>Rex can feel the student behind him glaring at the back of his head. He hasn't stopped spinning his pen since Ahsoka didn't show up for class. It's not like she's been late before, it's just she usually shows up at some point. Or at least texts him. Rex turns on his phone. No new messages and no missed calls. Rex sighs. Well, if she's going to be missing class, someone needs to take notes.</p>
  <p>Afterward, Rex does call her. He waits until it goes to voicemail and calls again. And again. Just as the call is about to go to voicemail, Ahsoka picks up.</p>
  <p>"Rex." She sounds breathless and exhausted. "Hey."</p>
  <p>"Late night?" he asks. "Didn't see you at Kenobi's lecture."</p>
  <p>"Oh, I—" Ahsoka clears her throat. "Yeah, I couldn't go to class today."</p>
  <p>"Hey," he says, "you alright?"</p>
  <p>To his shock, he hears Ahsoka take a shuddering breath on the other side, almost as if she's trying not to cry. "Rex, it's—it's my dad. He got hurt, really bad. He's been going in and out of consciousness, and he doesn't know what happened and I'm—"</p>
  <p>"Hey, hey," Rex says softly, as Ahsoka lets out a quiet sob. "You need me to bring anything?"</p>
  <p>"Literally any kind of food other than hospital food." Rex laughs.</p>
  <p>"Alright. I'll grab something from Dex's and be there as soon as I can, okay?"</p>
  <p>"Okay. See you."</p>
  <p>Rex hangs up, and he starts walking in the direction of Dex's Diner. As he does, he can't help the sense of dread that starts to grow in his chest. <em>It'll be fine,</em> he thinks. <em>It'll be fine.</em></p>
  <p>He gets to the hospital by an Uber, and he doesn't need to ask for directions to find Ahsoka. In the strange sterile smell of the hospital, he finds her easily. She's sitting with her back to the door, holding the hand of her father. Despite being friends for almost three years, Rex hasn't had the pleasure of meeting Ahsoka's father in person. He steps towards the door and frowns. Underneath all the sterility of the hospital, there is a familiar scent. Not Ahsoka, he knows what she smells like. Rex tries to focus. It's faint, probably old, and washed out. But familiar.</p>
  <p>Smells almost like him.</p>
  <p>Rex's eyes widen as he stares at the man lying in the hospital bed. <em>No. No way.</em></p>
  <p>Taking a few steps back, Rex hurridly takes a picture of the man lying in the bed and sends it to Wolffe, along with a very panicked and angry message. If he's right, Wolffe is gonna have a whole other problem. </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Update: Changed Padme's cafe to Dex's Diner seeing as it's canon. I'm an idiot and somehow forgot that Padme should be studying poli sci in this fic or doing at least something political. And sorry no, Rex and Ahsoka are not dating. They're just friends.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wolffe realizes he fucked up and goes to remedy that problem.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you've noticed, I've gone back and updated the previous two chapters to make Plo human. Long story short, my head was spinning with the thought of doing non-human anatomy, so I decided to make him human. Sorry if that's a disappointment to anyone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>"What do you mean you know who he is?" </em> Wolffe demands.</p>
<p>"I mean," Rex snarls, and Wolffe sees Rex's fangs slip out, "that the guy you nearly killed—"</p>
<p>"Hold on, he's the one who took out my eye—"</p>
<p>"<em>Is Ahsoka's father!"</em></p>
<p>Wolffe freezes. "Oh. Fuck."</p>
<p>"Oh fuck is right," Rex hisses. He paces along the length of the living room, moving in and out of Wolffe's line of vision. He and Fox watch the youngest vampire closely. Its a sign of annoyance, agitation, and more often than not, the prelude to something breaking. Even with all the initial emotional training that Rex got when he was just reborn, he's usually the one to flare up the easiest. The only upside to that is he calms down the quickest too.</p>
<p>But Wolffe thinks this will be a record. He can't imagine Rex easily forgiving him for this.</p>
<p>"How in all the world did you manage to not only nearly bleed the guy to death, but also give him a fucking concussion and three fractured ribs? Were you fucking playing with him?" Rex asks.</p>
<p>"I had to hold him down, and when he decided to slash one of my eyes, I figured hitting him in the chest would even the playing field," Wolffe spits. Rex snarls and lunges for him, fangs fully bared and eyes going black. He makes two swipes at Wolffe, both coming close to the bandaged side of his face. Wolffe snarls at the cheap move and shoves Rex back several feet. He trips backward but manages to stay on his feet. He starts rushing towards Wolffe but then Fox is in between him, eyes narrowed as he grabs the two younger brothers by their shirts to keep them apart.</p>
<p>"Will the two of you cut it out?" Fox yells. "You know the rules! No fighting in the house!"</p>
<p>"He's the one who started it—"</p>
<p>"I really don't give a flying fuck who started it," Fox snaps. He releases the two of them and shoves them back, holding his hands up in case the two of them get back into a brawl. "How about instead of ruining the house, you knock your heads together and make a plan to deal with this?" Wolffe and Rex spend a few heated moments staring at each other, Rex's eyes still black with rage. Wolffe knows he can handle Rex in a brawl, but any vamp with their eyes all dark is a danger, no matter the age or skill. After several controlled breaths, Rex closes his eyes, and Wolffe sees some of the tension slip. When he opens his eyes, they're back to his normal dark amber. Fox slowly puts down his hands. "We know where he is now. We can figure out who the hell he is and how much he knows."</p>
<p>"We are not going to interrogate Ahsoka's dad!"</p>
<p>"Rex, I get it," Fox says, his voice a touch softer around the edges. "She's your friend. That's why I'm not going to ask you to do this. We need to think about this in the long run. If Ahsoka's father knows who Wolffe is, that might put all of us in danger. We don't know anything about him. He could be a hunter for all we know."</p>
<p>Wolffe has the urge to scratch at his eye underneath his bandages at the thought, while Rex glares at Fox. "He's not," Rex grits out.</p>
<p>"How do you know?" Fox asks. "Is Ahsoka really going to tell you whether her father is a hunter? And for that matter, how do you know Ahsoka isn't one either?" </p>
<p>Rex's jaw is clenched so tight that Wolffe thinks he might break a tooth. He knows what Rex wants to say. <em>There's no way, Ahsoka would have told me, I would know</em>. But would she have? The brothers keep their secret between themselves, and it's only in dire circumstances that they divulge their state to others, and to only a select few. Wolffe only knows Ahsoka because she took MMA lessons at the studio. He hardly has the right to call her his friend. If she hasn't told Rex, she likely wouldn't have told anyone else either.</p>
<p>Fox turns back to Wolffe and points a finger at his chest. "You're the one who started this, so you fix it," he says.</p>
<p>
  <em>"How?"</em>
</p>
<p>"Figure it out! You're the one who got us roped into this mess. Use that head of yours," Fox tells him. "And do it tonight. The sooner we know about him the better."</p>
<p>Wolffe holds back a sigh. He turns to look at Rex, who is still standing there with his jaw clenched. Wolffe tries to think of something to say to his youngest brother, but he can't. Words have never come very well with him, especially in stressful situations. Bly's good at that, hell, even Cody is better. In fact, Cody might be the best for this kind of situation.</p>
<p>"I'll be back," Wolffe murmurs, too quiet for anyone to hear except Rex. He looks up and only gives Wolffe a withering glare. </p>
<p>Wolffe wonders how long that'll last.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Room 314.</em>
</p>
<p>Wolffe stares at the message from Rex. There's little to analyze in it, but Wolffe is sure his brother is still livid. He types out <em>Thanks,</em> but his thumb hovers over the send button. It might be good to leave Rex alone, but Wolffe is sorry. At this point, it'd be like throwing darts at a steel wall and hoping they stick.</p>
<p>Well. It never hurts to try.</p>
<p>Wolffe sends it and waits. His phone tells him that the message was read. Wolffe sighs and sticks it in his jacket pocket. Out of habit, he puts his hand in the other pocket. He frowns and pulls out the pair of sunglasses he'd taken from the man. He spins them in his fingers for a moment before putting them back in his pocket.</p>
<p>Now that he knows where the room is exactly, he can forgo his plan of trying to sniff out the man in the hospital. He walks confidently through the halls, eyes only moving minutely to look at the room numbers. A few nurses pass, but they hardly give him a second look. People with injuries in a hospital aren't an oddity.</p>
<p>He finally finds the room he's looking for and quickly slips into the door. The first thing he notices is how dark it is. The curtains are drawn, barring any light from entering the room. There's a small glass window next to the door, but the bed is on the other side of the room. Then, Wolffe notices the patient.</p>
<p>He's sleeping, IV line in his arm and heart rate monitor calmly beeping in the silence. The man's braided hair has slipped fans out beneath his head and creating a sharp contrast to the light blue pillow under his head. It's quite a sight, and Wolffe has a hard time not admiring it. There are other things to admire too—his cheekbones, angular, and creating a sharp angle of his jawline. His skin color is a deep almond brown, darker than Ahsoka's, though Wolffe vaguely remembers Rex telling him that Ahsoka is adopted. The man's chest rises slightly as he breathes, and Wolffe finds himself taking a breath in too. Even with how sterile hospitals are, the whole room smells like him. That same sweet scent, wrapped in something herbal and dried. And there's Ahsoka too. Her scent is faint though, already fading. If Wolffe had to guess, she had to have been there a few hours ago.</p>
<p>Wolffe glances at the clock on the wall. He doesn't have a few hours, much less one. </p>
<p>Wolffe likes his sleep as much as any other person, so he's not that inclined to wake the man up. But like Fox said. The sooner they knew about this man, the better they could deal with him.</p>
<p>After he locks the door, Wolffe notices two chairs in the room. One of them has Ahsoka's scent on it. He takes the one that doesn't and pulls it up to the side of the bed. He sits down in it and ponders about the best way to wake the man up. Then he notices the man's breathing change from steady and relaxes to tense and controlled.</p>
<p>A few moments pass, and eventually, a pair of silver eyes open to stare at Wolffe. He gives a little grin.</p>
<p>"Let's talk."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ha sorry for the cliffhanger, but I figured this would be a nice stopping point. I'm also thinking of whether to have the next chapter in Plo's point of view because I definitely don't want this whole fic to be that way. Keeping it in mind.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A vampire and a human have a somewhat civil conversation. It ends just as well as you can expect.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is entirely a conversation, and honestly, I don't know how to feel about it. But holy crap, two chapters in less than a week? Dang, we rolling.<br/>Next chapter, Ahsoka's finally gonna show up for more than two seconds.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing Plo notices when he wakes up from his dreamless, drug-induced sleep is that he is not alone.</p>
<p>There is someone sitting in a chair next to his bed, and for a stupid moment, he thinks it's Ahsoka. But Ahsoka is not a man, not a man wearing a leather jacket and dark wash jeans. And she is most certainly not a vampire.</p>
<p>When Plo sees the swath of bandages on the right side of the vampire's face, he feels a sense of pride in his chest. Good to see that silver still works on dark creatures. The vampire's good eye watches him carefully. The dark gold color is the brightest thing in the room, save the machines Plo is hooked up to and the light spilling from the hallway. There's enough light to define the man's facial features, and maybe in any other situation, Plo would allow himself to call the man handsome. The man's dark wavy hair is cut short, but there's enough that he could run his hand through it and leave it tousled in his wake. But this man is a vampire and almost killed Plo two days ago, so that certainly lowers any possibility of Plo being attracted to him. Plo looks downward to see the vampire twirling something in his fingers, something that looks suspiciously like—</p>
<p>"Are those my glasses?" he says, dazedly. </p>
<p>The vampire stops twirling them for a moment as if he's surprised by the first words to come out of Plo's mouth. Then his lips curl into a wicked grin, sharp around the edges and his eye glinting in the darkness. "Not anymore, he says, as he folds them up and puts them into his leather jacket.</p>
<p>Well. At least Plo has spares. </p>
<p>"What kind of person wears sunglasses at night anyway?" the vampire asks.</p>
<p>"What kind of vampire has a conversation with someone he almost killed?" </p>
<p>The vampire's grin fades, but his expression is not hostile. "I wasn't going to kill you," he says, and Plo scoffs. "I'm not joking. We don't kill those we feed on." <em>We. </em>So there's more of them. </p>
<p>"No, you just suck people's blood, throw them around like ragdolls, and expect everything to be right with the world."</p>
<p>The vampire's eye narrows dangerously. "Isn't right in the first place," he says darkly. "And you—" He stops. "You were different."</p>
<p>That's... not what Plo was expecting. And it's incredibly worrisome. The words bounce around in Plo's head, and as he tries to decipher what they could mean, he slowly inches his hand to the call nurse button on his side. Fortunately, it's on the opposite side of the bed, but with the damage the vampire did, Plo wouldn't put it past the vampire to inflict more pain on him.</p>
<p>Faster than humanly possible, the vampire plucks the call button out of Plo's hand. <em>Fuck. </em>He reaches for it in vain, and a wheeze comes out of his chest as his ribs protest. The vampire freezes for a moment, his left landing on Plo's chest as if he can see the bruises he left. Then he tosses the button off the side of the bed, far out of Plo's reach. "Ah, ah. None of that."</p>
<p>"What do you want," Plo grits out.</p>
<p>"I told you. I want to talk." The vampire sits back in the chair and crosses his legs, his body relaxed while Plo has not stopped thinking of plans to get <em>out. </em>As he's on his fourth plan, the vampire says, "This might be hard to believe, but I'm not going to kill you today. Even if you did do this." The vampire taps the bandages on his face.</p>
<p><em>Today</em>. Nothing makes Plo want to trust the vampire, but there's something to be said about the fact he didn't wake up choking on his own blood. Instead, he woke up to a vampire staring at him. If there's one thing mainstream media got about vampires, it's that they are all creepy.</p>
<p>"I have nothing to say to you," Plo growls.</p>
<p>The vampire silently stares at him, his one eye narrowing at Plo. "You know, I've been trying to figure out how you did this." He points to the bandages on his face. "Sure, a normal knife up close will do some damage, but those heal within a day. The only thing I can think of that can do this sort of thing is silver." He watches Plo's face for any sort of reaction, but he won't get it. Along with knowing how to wield weapons against creatures of the dark, he knows how to keep his reactions under control. Fifteen years of training isn't going to fail him now.</p>
<p>Seemingly bored, the vampire gets up from his seat. He trails around Plo's bed as he continues. "Most people think silver's just for werewolves. Takes a hunter to know they work just as well on other creatures. It'll work even better if it's been in holy water because then it'll deter the healing process. Makes us look more human." Plo does not look away from him, even as he can hear the heart rate monitor quicken slightly as his heart booms in his ears. He'd like nothing more than to rip the thing off his body right now. </p>
<p>The vampire arrives at the small table that sits next to the bed. On it are Plo's belongings, though Ahsoka's taken his clothes home to wash. His phone and wallet sit there in the open, but the vampire did not reach for them. Instead, he opens the drawer in the table and stares at what's inside. With the cuff of his leather jacket, he picks up the knife and tosses it onto the bed, out of reach of Plo's grasp, but in plain view. </p>
<p>With the blade folded inward, it looks more like a pocket knife. No more than three inches long, the handle is made out of dark wood with silver inlaid. The carved markings are unique to Plo's lineage, and it's been handed down to each younger generation of hunters, should they decide to become hunters themselves. But Plo doesn't even want to think about the possibility of Ahsoka stumbling into this dark world.</p>
<p>So for now, he holds onto it.</p>
<p>The vampire inspects the knife carefully, making sure to not touch it with his bare skin. "You work with anyone hunter? A partner or—" Plo's hands clench into the stiff hospital sheets as he keeps his face impassive. "Or an apprentice. Someone to pass along the family business?"</p>
<p>Plo's head snaps up to stare at the vampire. He can't know, there's no way—</p>
<p>Plo schools his face into an expression of typical hate at the vampire. "I work alone," Plo answers, laying the hostility on thick in his words. The vampire looks up at him, studying his face, and Plo glares back. He seems to find what he's looking for there because he does not press the question.</p>
<p>"For some reason, I don't believe you." </p>
<p>"That's not my problem."</p>
<p>The vampire makes a thoughtful noise. "Why are you here in Coruscant?" he asks. Plo is silent, and the vampire narrows his eye. "I find it hard to believe you've been in Coruscant all this time, and we haven't heard of you before."</p>
<p>"Maybe I'm just that good."</p>
<p>"And they say I'm full of myself," the vampire mutters. He looks at Plo for a moment, as if he's mulling over an important decision. Probably whether or not to just kill Plo. The vampire relaxes and turns around to move away, but then he's rushing towards Plo, pinning his wrists to the bed as he stares into Plo's eyes. "You are going to tell me everything you know about the vampires in Coruscant. You are going to tell me who you are working with. You are going to forget this ever happened."</p>
<p>It's not the fangs or the heightened abilities that people have to worry about with vampires. Those are easily avoided with years of training and the right weapons. It's the compulsion, the seemingly magical ability vampires have that allows them to control their prey with little to no effort, that hunters need to worry about. While widely known, the methods in combating it are lacking in information. It's not like there are any safe ways of studying it, and all they have to go off of are ancient recounts in rare manuscripts that Plo can only dream of acquiring. So, the only way of combating compulsion is to hope and not get caught.</p>
<p>Except if you're from the Koon Clan. Except if you've grown up in a family of hunters and trained early on how to clear your mind of all distractions, attachments, and thoughts. It takes discipline, meditation, and an infinite amount of patience to do so. Even then, it's not a sure-fire solution. But there's only one way to learn if it works.</p>
<p>The sounds of the hospital become muffled as Plo sees the vampire's one good eye dilate slightly. Plo so desperately wants to look away, to close his eyes and forget everything that is happening. But even if he wasn't being held down by a supernatural creature, his limbs wouldn't work. The vampire's hands feel like hot brands against his wrists, and he feels his skin crawl with the close proximity of the vampire. </p>
<p>Plo feels his lips opening, and there are words starting to form in his mouth. <em>No.</em> <em>Clear your mind. There is nothing to find, nothing to see. Breathe.</em> Plo's hands clench tighter into the sheets, and his breathing is loud to his own ears. <em>Deep, steady breaths. Control it.</em> There is only calm, serenity. Patience.</p>
<p>He hears his own breathing even out, and for a moment, the weight of the vampire's hands eases. "No," he says, quiet, but strong and steady. "I am not telling you <em>anything</em>."</p>
<p>The vampire's eye widens, his mouth opening slightly in disbelief. If Plo weren't so focused on keeping his mind clear, he might have laughed at his face. "How did you—"</p>
<p>Plo doesn't give him time to finish that question because he's shoving the vampire away from him. He's not going for distance, just a distraction, as he lunges for his knife. He picks it up and flicks the blade out, holding it close to himself. The vampire regains his focus and takes a step back, keeping his gaze on the blade. "I suggest you leave unless you want me to blind your other eye as well," he threatens.</p>
<p>There's a heavy tense moment where Plo thinks the vampire might just try to kill him. He certainly looks like it, with the way his legs are bent and the golden eye is glaring at him. But then the vampire takes a step back, and then another. He moves to the door and unlocks it without looking. </p>
<p>"This is not over," he warns.</p>
<p>"<em>Try me.</em>"</p>
<p>Even after the vampire rushes out, Plo's body is tense as if he's expecting another supernatural creature to come out of the shadows. He falls back onto the bed and rubs at his eyes tiredly. He holds up his knife in his hand and clenches it tightly as he sees his hand is trembling slightly. </p>
<p>"Fuck," he says, to no one, to himself, and to the universe.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Wolffe stares at the night sky as it falls over Coruscant. He runs his hand through his hair and thinks about what he's learned from the hunter. </p>
<p>It's a mixed bag of feelings to say the very least. The whole time they were speaking, the hunter's tells were, for the most part, the same. He kept his heart rate steady throughout it, except for when Wolffe came close to the bed. It's a little impressive to see a hunter with that kind of self-control. </p>
<p>But when Wolffe asked if he worked alone, or if he had any family, there were a few things that even the heart rate monitor hadn't picked up on. Sure, he already knows the man is Ahsoka's father, but when Wolffe asked if he worked alone, there was nothing to imply that Ahsoka was learning from the man, or if she was actively going on jobs with him. But his reaction to having an apprentice was so visceral that Wolffe hardly needed to look at him. He clearly touched a nerve there. So maybe Ahsoka isn't learning from her father, but the implication is enough.</p>
<p>And what the hell went wrong when Wolffe was trying to compel the man? He could feel the man's mind slipping into his control, but then <em>something</em> cut him off, effectively slamming him out of the man's mind. Wolffe tries to think about what he did if he made a mistake somewhere. But no, he kept eye contact, he kept his voice smooth and controlled. If anything went wrong, it was the man's fault.</p>
<p>Wolffe sticks his hands in his pockets and is surprised, again, by the feel of the sunglasses. He takes them out and turns them over in his hands, staring at them intently. The image of the man's silver eyes burns in his mind's eye, and Wolffe begins walking home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191067">Keep Your Enemies</a> by Anonymous
    </li>
  </ul>
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